


I'm No Hero

by XxXxDarkVampirexXxX



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abuse, Dumbledore Bashing, Eventual Smut, Except Bill-Charlie-Twins, Explicit Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Manipulative Dumbledore, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Romance, Weasley Bashing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-18
Updated: 2017-04-20
Packaged: 2018-03-23 15:08:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3772837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XxXxDarkVampirexXxX/pseuds/XxXxDarkVampirexXxX
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Hedwig arrives at the Dark Lord's manor with a letter from her young master, Voldemort doesn't quite know what to do. The owl seems to be pleading for help, and Voldemort makes the sudden decision to get Harry and bring him to the manor. But when he reaches Privet Drive, he finds that things with his enemy aren't what they seem to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Cross posted at FFN, so don't freak if you've read this before. Another overdone idea I just needed to do. Oh, and people on FFN pointed out something I forgot to mention: this chapter takes place summer after fifth year.

The Dark Lord Voldemort, or Tom Marvolo Riddle, better known as You-Know-Who and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, was seated on his throne in the ball room of his manor. He was in the middle of conducting a meeting with his Inner Circle Death Eaters.

Voldemort was not in the best of moods right now. The Ministry of Magic, after an entire year, was finally acknowledging his return. He despised that. It had been much easier when they had been refusing to accept the truth of his return. Now however, everyone was on guard, listening to Dumbledore and his foolish Order of the Phoenix.

"My Lord! My Lor-agh!" One of the lesser Death Eaters rushed into the room yelling and not even waiting to be told to enter. He found himself on the floor, writhing under the pain of a silent, yet furious Cruciatus Curse.

When the snake-like man felt the insolent fool had learned his lesson, he released the curse. "What?" he questioned, irritation clear in his voice.

The Death Eater slowly clambered to his feet, shaking visibly. He bowed deeply before speaking, obviously having gotten the message for his previous insolence. No one disturbed the Dark Lord. Ever. "M-my Lord," he began shakily, "t-there's an owl flying around the manor. I-it has a letter, b-but won't let anyone near enough to see who it's for."

Crimson slits narrowed. "You interrupted me for thisss? It isss an owl, leave it be." Though he wasn't going to say it, Voldemort _did_ wonder how the owl had gotten past some of the wards he had set up. Strange.

"Y-yes, my Lord!"

The words has barely left the coward's mouth, when a snow white owl suddenly flew into the room, where it circled around for a moment before landing on the arm of Voldemort's throne. Looking up from the owl, he noticed a pair of onyx eyes widen from beneath a Death Eater mask. "Sssomething you wish to sssay, Ssseverusss?"

Said man bowed carefully before speaking. "I believe that owl belongs to Potter, my Lord."

Those slit-like eyes narrowed once more. "Potter?" he repeated slowly.

Severus inclined his head. "Yes, my Lord. I cannot be positive, but after seeing the bird many times since the boy's first year, I am quite sure it belongs to him."

Voldemort refocused on the owl, who hooted at him once, the sound muffled by the letter clamped in the bird's beak. He raised a long fingered, pale, sharp nailed hand to take the letter, and the owl gave him an urgent sounding hoot, as if encouraging him to quickly read.

The first thing the Dark Lord noticed upon unfolding the letter was the spatters of blood across the parchment. It also seemed to have been written in a rush, if the messy scrawl was anything to go by. Was this really a letter from the Potter boy? Why would he be writing to him anyway? When the owl perched on the arm of his throne hooted once more, this time going as far as to even peck his spare hand impatiently, he finally began to read the letter.

_Voldemort,_

_Wow, okay, this has got be the weirdest thing I've ever done. I know you're probably wondering why I'm writing to you, right? Well, I just wanted to let you know that I won't be helping the Light any more. Don't take this the wrong way. I'm not planning on helping you either. I'm done with this war. I've had enough._

_I'm through being the Boy-Who-Lived, the Golden Boy, the Boy Wonder, the Saviour, and whatever else I'm being called. I'm through being lied to and being deceived by people I thought I could trust._

_Oh, by the way, you should stop focusing on the whole prophecy thing. It's a fake. Yeah, I bet you didn't see that coming. I sure as hell didn't._

_Anyway, you can find me at my Aunt and Uncle's home (I'm sure you know where it is), but it'll already be too late by then. You don't have to worry about the Blood Wards though. They haven't existed since my first year at Hogwarts, and even if they did, you would be able to get through them just fine since you have my blood in you and all. That surprised you too, didn't it? Yeah, the wards were gone before I even turned twelve, and no, Dumbledore didn't tell me about any of this._

_Well, have fun with the rest of the war. I'm sure you'll fine someone new to obsess over instead of me._

_Torture Wormtail a little for me, will you? Seriously, he really fucking deserves it. And if at all possible, do you think you can try not to hurt Bill, Charlie, Fred and George Weasley, Remus Lupin, Neville Longbottom, and Luna Lovegood? I don't particularly give a damn about anyone else, and you can do whatever the hell you please to the rest of them. But could you just go easy on these seven? Please?_

_Good luck with the war!_

_Harry James Potter_

Even after he finished reading, Voldemort just stared at the parchment before him, unsure of what to think. He looked at the snowy owl when it pecked him again, hooting once more, amber eyes almost...pleading? "Doesss he need help?" he asked the owl for some bizarre reason. As if the owl understood him anyway. But the owl hooted again, almost insistently, bobbing its feathery head.

Voldemort looked at his Death Eaters. They were all watching him curiously. He sighed inwardly, aware of what the owl wanted him to do, but unsure of whether he wanted to do so or not. "Ssseverusss, Luciusss, Narcisssa, Bellatrix, Rodolphusss, remain. The rest of you are disssmisssed."

His currently unwanted followers cleared out, and once the doors closed behind them, Voldemort got to his feet, allowing the letter to flutter down onto his recently vacated seat. "We are going to get Potter," he announced, gauging the expressions in the eyes of those he was speaking to. They all simply looked confused. "Let usss depart." He left no room for an argument, and walked out of the room, aware the others were following him silently.

Reaching the border of the many wards placed around the manor, the group Disapparated as one, all focusing on the destination of Privet Drive in Little Whinging, Surrey...

When the group arrived at the rapidly darkening street, Voldemort turned to look at his spy. "Who will be on guard right now, Ssseverusss?"

"Fletcher, which likely means no one," replied the other man immediately.

The crimson eyed snake-man nodded once. "Check anyway."

"Yes, my Lord." Inclining his head, Severus walked down the street at a brisk pace, tapping himself with the tip of his wand to pull up a glamour, covering his Death Eater robes and mask. A minute later he returned, swiftly removing the glamour. "As expected, he is not there."

"Then let usss go." Voldemort led his small group of followers down over to Number Four, stopping just shy of where the wards should have begun. "Luciusss, Rodulphusss, check for the wardsss," he commanded, purposely choosing the two who knew wards the best.

The two men began waving their wands in various patterns, muttering different spells. Frowns appeared on both their faces, not that they could be seen, and after a moment they fell silent, lowering their wands, obvious confusion visible in their eyes, despite the rest of the faces being concealed beneath their masks.

"The protection wards are not there," said Rodolphus, sounding surprised.

"We can easily enter without detection. If we avoid using our wands, and keep to non-verbal spells, then no one will be the wiser," added Lucius, sounding just as surprised.

 _The boy was right._ Nodding, Voldemort led the way up the walk, stopping in front of the door. With a flick of his wrist the lock clicked, and the Dark Lord grabbed the handle to push open the door. The group entered the house without hindrance, and found Harry Potter's relatives in the sitting room, laughing joyously at something on the television. Three Stunners* later, the Dursleys were down and out, unaware of what hit them.

"Sssplit up and find Potter. No one isss to harm him." he waited for the acknowledgements, then made his way up the stairs to the second floor, figuring he would find Potter in his bedroom, which was very likely up there. He was disgusted with the annoyingly clean house. While clean was good, everything was so well maintained that things nearly sparkled, and the disgusting scent of lemon polish seemed to permanently permeate throughout the small building, reminding the Dark Lord of the Light's Leader and his damned lemon drops.

Vaguely noting the photographs lining the wall, Voldemort quickly realized that none of them were of Potter. This was strange, as Severus' accounts of Potter's home life consisted of him being spoiled and pampered. Why wouldn't his picture be on the wall with the rest of his family? For that matter, he couldn't see James or Lily Potter either. Was this not the Potter woman's sister's home? Why would the aunt not want photographs of her deceased, younger sister?

Ascending the staircase, the first door to his right caught Voldemort's attention immediately. There were more locks than necessary on the door, going from the ceiling all the way down to the floor, and at the bottom there was a pet door. Voldemort stared for a moment, wondering what could possibly be in there that Potter's relatives clearly wished to keep hidden or at least locked up.

He unlocked the door magically, then cautiously pushed it open. The Dark Lord was, shockingly, caught off guard. The smell in the small room was overwhelming; sweat, blood, stale sex, and a hint of fresh ink. But the sight was far worse than the smell. There was so much blood. Not only were there puddles on the floor, there were streaks and splatters all over the walls and even the ceiling. Most were old and dry.

A spell on a mysterious white substance on the floor told him it was semen. The spatter of ink on the ragged bed sheet in front of the bared window told him that Potter had been in this room when he had written that letter; the ink was still wet. That owl must have flown very quickly to reach him.

"Sweet Circe!"

Narcissa's exclamation brought Voldemort back downstairs, where he found his Death Eaters crowded in front of the cupboard under the stairs. The blonde witch was kneeling in front of the open cupboard door, and all five of them seemed to be in shock, even the ones who never normally showed emotion. Voldemort approached, indicating that Narcissa move away so that he could see.

Kneeling down to get a better view, his eyes widened, well, as much as slits could. Inside the small space of the cupboard, he saw a naked, bloody, and bruised Harry Potter. He was curled up on his side since he couldn't fit any other way. A knife lay by his hands, and there was a large pool of blood around him. The boy had slit his writs.

 **"Salazar,"** muttered Voldemort in shock, the name absently coming out in Parseltongue. Flicking his wrist, he managed to levitate Potter out of the cupboard. He didn't have to do more than turn his gaze on Narcissa for her place the rather small teen in a sort of stasis that most Healers used. They didn't have the time or resources to heal him right then and there.

Summoning all of Potter's things, they shrank them down, and Voldemort turned to look at Severus, Lucius, Bellatrix, and Rodolphus. "Get hisss relativesss. Do not harm them. Put them in the dungeon. I will deal with them later. Isss that underssstood?"

There was a chorus of "Yes, my Lord," and the four were quick to bind and gag the two overweight males, and the near underweight woman. Leaving the house, Voldemort turned his wand to the sky. "Morsmordre!" His Mark erupted in the sky, directly over the so called safe house of the Boy-Who-Lived.

With the glowing green Dark Mark reflecting in their eyes, the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters vanished into the night, taking Harry Potter and his relatives with them...

*Anyone else thinking of a Stone Cold Stunner?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the only chapter I have right now, but I want to catch up to where I am on FFN. Chapter lengths will vary. Comments? Kudos?


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Hedwig arrives at the Dark Lord's manor with a letter from her young master, Voldemort doesn't quite know what to do. The owl seems to be pleading for help, and Voldemort makes the sudden decision to get Harry and bring him to the manor. But when he reaches Privet Drive, he finds that things with his enemy aren't what they seem to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys have been awesome with your response despite the fact there was only one chapter up, so thank you.

The moment the group appeared on their Lord's manor grounds, they rushed inside (pulling off their masks as they did so), and split up on the landing. Bellatrix, her husband Rodolphus, and brother in-law Lucius, took the three Dursleys down into the dungeon, while Narcissa, and Severus followed their Lord into a spare room right down the hall from his own.

Voldemort magicked Potter onto the bed, then stepped back, allowing Narcissa-his resident Healer, to begin her job, Severus aiding her in providing the needed potions. They seemed to have begun by dealing with the self-inflicted wounds on Potter's wrists, pouring Dittany on them, and getting him to swallow a Blood Replenisher. 

The blonde woman ran a complex diagnostic spell, wanting to see not only Potter's current injuries, but all those he had sustained throughout his life. Considering who he was, and his yearly escapades, she expected a foot, perhaps two, max, in the length of the parchment. But when it grew well over four feet, and continued on, all three stared. The parchment didn't cease to extend until it reached nearly six feet in length.

Wanting to go through it, she began at the bottom, eyes quickly scanning. The first problems began when Potter had been an infant and still living with his parents. She saw a diaper rash here, a cold there, a mild infection-just things she herself had dealt with when it came to Draco. In fact, the worst thing at that point was just a nasty bump to the head, obtained nearly two months before the Dark Lord's attack-but it wasn't anything severe. 

It was after his parents' death that the injuries began to pick up. In fact, just a day into the Potters' death, the young babe had caught a bad cold. Things were small the first three years or so, cuts, bumps, a few bruises, but there were too many to be explained away as accidents or just a toddler playing. And then, not long after the boy's fourth birthday, everything just seemed to go to hell. 

It took Narcissa a while to reach the top of the page, no matter how fast she read, but when she was finished, she was in shock. She knew immediately that the boy's magic was the only thing that had kept him alive. If he had been a Muggle, Harry Potter would have died by the age of eight. She shared the list with Severus first, so he could see what potions would be needed both immediately and in the long run, and went on with her healing, taking care of a few broken ribs, a broken nose, a dislocated shoulder, a near shattered ankle, and the open whip lashes on the teen's back.

Severus stared at the long list. And stared. And stared. He wasn't quite sure what to say, let alone think. This list of hurts clearly proved that the Boy-Who-Lived had been, and was still, being abused. Abused, like he himself had been. But how could Dumbledore have let this happen? The old man had always told him that Potter was safe and happy with his relatives. That they were very kind people who cared for their nephew immensely. But this list...

"Ssseverusss."

The onyx eyed spy flinched, too caught up in his own dark childhood memories to conceal it. Aware of what the Dark Lord wanted, he took a deep breath to steady himself, and turned to hand the snake-like man the long sheet of parchment. Not wanting to be near him when he read it, unsure of what his reaction might be, Severus went to stand by Narcissa, where he began to aid in her the rest of the healing of Harry Potter.

Crimson eyes locked onto the sheet of parchment the moment it got close enough. Voldemort, like the other two, began from when Potter was an infant, and worked his way up. It took him a couple of minutes to read through the list, but when he was finished, he was in shock. His gaze immediately travelled over to the unconscious teen on the bed.

_Dumbledore has done it again,_  he realized in fury.  _Did he not learn from his mistakes the first time? The second? This is the third time he has done something like this._  He had become the Dark Lord for a reason, and knew, very clearly, that if his old Transfiguration professor hadn't talked Headmaster Dippet against him, if they had just listened and helped him, he would never have become what he was. And then there was Severus. Dumbledore hadn't helped him either, when it was obvious that he needed it. And that was why Severus had joined him, the Dark Lord. Now Potter could be added to the list. Dumbledore had done nothing to help him, and just like Severus, the teen had attempted to take his own life. 

It was lucky that he had sent that letter, and that his owl seemed to really want him alive. Voldemort wouldn't have bothered otherwise, and then it would have been too late for the teen.

When Severus, looking rather conflicted, stepped away from the bed, the Dark Lord approached. "Well?"

"He's stable," informed Narcissa, tucking the blankets around the boy. "He will not be waking up for a couple of days at the very least, perhaps longer."

"Very well. Let us leave him to rest.  **Nagini?"**

The large snake slithered into the room from where she had been hiding to watch the proceedings in interest.  **"Yes, Master?"**

******"Watch over the boy. Inform me when he wakes."**

******"Very well..."**

* * *

Dismissing his Death Eaters, Voldemort retired to his study. He would have gone down to see the Dursleys in the dungeon, but knew that if he did, there was a good chance that he would kill them. He wanted to, of course, but he would wait-let their fear grow. He would deal with them after speaking to Potter. 

The Dark Lord poured himself a drink before taking a seat behind his large desk. Closing his eyes, he fell into thought. He had just found out more about Harry Potter in the last hour, than he had in the past near sixteen years. Though he knew there was much more to learn about the teen, much more indeed. 

Voldemort had never imagined that the Boy-Who-Lived would ever write to him, and the contents of that letter had been shocking. It told him that the Saviour of the Wizarding World wasn't quite as Light as everyone believed. Could he be converted though? Would he join him and the Dark? 

Sipping his drink, he ran his sharp nails over his hairless head. He had a feeling that he could, with minimal effort, get Harry Potter to join him, but perhaps his old body would be necessary for the task. He doubted the teen would feel very comfortable with this current appearance, and while the comfort of his followers when it came to him was the least of his concern, this boy was different. Potter joining the Dark would turn the entire foolish war around-around in  _his_  favour. 

He would have to speak to Severus in order to find out if there were any potions out there that could give him his old body back...

* * *

_When Harry came to, he was laying in complete darkness. He couldn't see anything, not the ceiling, not the walls, not even the floor. It was literally pitch black. ...Was there even a floor?_ Something _was supporting the weight of his body. He was a bit wary of moving, because it sort of felt like he was in some sort of void. Nevertheless, he shifted just a bit so that his palms were face down. When they didn't just sink down into nothing, he managed to first sit up, then, when nothing happened, finally got to his feet._

_The teen looked around the dark space, feeling rather curious, but cautious at the same time. He couldn't recall ever being in this place before, wherever it was, and wondered what was happening. Harry doubted he was actually awake. While waking up in darkness was nothing new to him, considering he was back in his cupboard, this space was far larger. It didn't feel at all confined, like he was used to, even though he couldn't actually_ see _to be sure._

_Recalling the beating he had received earlier, and what he had done to himself after, Harry looked down at himself. He was wearing clothes, which he hadn't been when he had been thrown back in his cupboard. He had on a simple pair of jeans, and a t-shirt, both dark coloured. When Harry focused his gaze on his bare arms, he noted that he didn't have any scars, which definitely wasn't normal._

_Was he dead? He_ had _tried to kill himself, after all. Why was it all dark then? Didn't people normally say everything was always_ bright _when they were dying? Or was this darkness some sort of manifestation of his mind and soul? Was the darkness trying to show him that he wasn't as light as he thought he was?_

_Harry decided at that moment that he was thinking too much. If he was dead, then he was dead, and maybe he would finally be able to see his parents and Sirius. But what if he_ wasn't _dead? What was going on?_

_Figuring standing around wasn't going to accomplish anything, he picked a random direction, and began to walk, choosing not to call out for anyone, just in case. Harry walked and walked, looking around but seeing nothing anywhere. The dark void just seemed never ending, with nothing changing at all._

_Harry had no idea how long he had been walking for, just that he was seriously getting tired. Sighing, he stopped where he was and turned around in a full circle. He still couldn't see anything but darkness._

_Unable to stand any longer, Harry dropped down to the floor, and leaned back onto his forearms. He looked up and sighed in aggravation once again when he saw nothing whatsoever. "Agh, what the heck is going on!?"_

_"You are dreaming, Harry Potter..."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it for now. Remember I did say that chapter lengths would vary, so you'll have to deal with this being a bit shorter than last time. Anyway, comments? Kudos?


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Hedwig arrives at the Dark Lord's manor with a letter from her young master, Voldemort doesn't quite know what to do. The owl seems to be pleading for help, and Voldemort makes the sudden decision to get Harry and bring him to the manor. But when he reaches Privet Drive, he finds that things with his enemy aren't what they seem to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the wait. RL's been worse than usual, and that's definitely saying something. I can't really think of anything to say. Thank you to all readers so far, and an extra to those who commented!

Downing the rest of his drink, Voldemort got to his feet. Tomorrow, he would speak to Severus about a potion that could revert his appearance, and would begin thinking about how he might be able to bring Potter to the Dark. For now, he was going to head to bed. Stripping down, he crawled into bed and fell asleep in moments, his earlier drink likely helping him with that.

_When Voldemort awoke, he found himself surrounded by darkness. How strange. He immediately reached for his wand, only to discover that it wasn't on him. Now that was even stranger, because the Dark Lord_ never  _went anywhere without his wand. When he raised his hand to absently scratch an itch on his face, he froze._

_Raising both hands, Voldemort stared at them in surprise. He was no longer so pale that his veins were visible, and his nails weren't long and sharp either. In fact, his hands looked...normal. Frowning, he reached up to touch his face, finding that while his skin was still smooth, it was no longer marble soft and nor was he cool to the touch any more._

_Voldemort ran his fingers over his face, coming to a stop at his nose-a nose! His fingers travelled higher, and he was pleased to discover that he had a full head of silky hair. ...Where was a mirror when you needed one?_

_As if hearing his wish, a full length mirror suddenly appeared before him, and Voldemort stared at his reflection in shock. How long had it been since he had last looked like this? He was back in his human body, no longer the strange humanoid snake form he had been in. He seemed to be about twenty five or so, from what he could tell, and was dressed rather casually in black trousers and a deep green button down, which was strange in itself as he definitely hadn't fallen asleep in them. Voldemort stared at his eyes. They weren't slits any more, but were shaped the same as any normal human, though they had remained the colour of crimson._

_Tearing his gaze away from his reflection, Voldemort-though perhaps he would go by Marvolo instead, looked around the darkened space, noting the mirror vanishing as he did so. Marvolo was quick to realize that he was dreaming. Nothing else made any sense. There was no other way for him to look like this, to be dressed like this, to be in this space, to be disarmed. He was dreaming. He had to be._

_Marvolo decided on a direction and began to walk. He kept silent, even his footfalls made no sound. It would have been eerie if he didn't find the quiet to be comforting. Though he knew he was walking, the strange darkness made it seem as if he were gliding instead. And nothing around him changed either, no matter how far he went or how many times he changed directions._

_Pausing in place, the man turned in a full circle, eyes narrowing when he caught sight of a small pinprick of light. Frowning, he approached, the downward curve of his lips deepening when he realized it was another person. That frown deepened even further when he saw just_ who _the other person was: Harry Potter._

_He watched Potter lower himself down to the floor, where he leaned back onto his forearms, legs stretched out in front of him. Potter looked a bit different too, Marvolo noted. He had clothes on, for one, and no scars at all, not even the lightning bolt on his forehead._

_Potter looked up in the darkness, and then released a rather aggravated sounding sigh. "Agh, what the heck is going on!?"_

_A sudden Gryffindorish impulse overtook the man, and he found himself walking closer, only stopping when he stood by the teen's feet. "You are dreaming, Harry Potter," he stated calmly._

_As expected, Potter jumped to his feet immediately, eyes widening. "V-Voldemort? What the fuck happened to you?"_

_The man raised a brow. "Meaning?" He already knew the answer, of course._

_"You look...normal," stated the teen. Then his eyes narrowed. "What are you doing here?"_

_"Such a hostile tone towards the one that saved your life," he replied casually. Although, it had been Narcissa and Severus who had done the healing. Well, he didn't need to know the details, right?_

_Potter blinked. "You_ saved _me? ME?" His tone was one of disbelief._

_"You were the one who sent me that letter," Marvolo reminded him pointedly._

_The boy shrugged. "Yeah, but it didn't say anything about saving me in it."_

_"Perhaps I merely did so on a whim."_

_"A whim?" Potter repeated with a frown of his own._

_"Yes."_

_Green eyes locked on crimson. "So you got me out of the Dursleys' place, huh? Where did you take me? And what did you do to those three?"_

_Marvolo paused a moment, wondering whether or not he should answer. Normally, he would never have bothered, and simply told the teen to figure it out on his own, but he needed Potter on his side, didn't he? So perhaps he merely ought to tell him? He sighed inwardly at his conflicting thoughts. "I brought all of you to my manor," he replied finally. "You are currently in a healing sleep in one of my guest rooms, and your...relatives are locked in a dungeon cell."_

_The teenager stared at him surprisingly calmly, as if contemplating what to say or how to react. "I see," he said after waiting a beat._

_The man raised a brow at the less than explosive reaction he had been expecting. Potter had always been a very emotional child, ever the Gryffindor, really. But he didn't seem that way right now. In fact, the way those piercing green eyes moved over both him and the surrounding area, shrewd and calculating..._

_"Where are we?" asked the teen suddenly._

_"I assure you, I haven't a clue." And he wasn't lying. He couldn't recall every having been in a place such as this before. It was really quite strange._

_"Mmm hmm," voiced Potter, as he began to wander around the immediate area._

_Marvolo watched him silently. He wasn't sure what he had been expecting when he saw the boy here with him, but it definitely hadn't been this. The menace was too calm. Almost eerily so. He wondered if this behaviour was a one off, or if it would continue upon waking..._

* * *

Harry woke with a start. He lay there among the oddly soft sheets, immediately aware he was no longer in Privet Drive. He couldn't hear his uncle and cousin stomping around, or his aunt puttering and compulsively cleaning. Nothing smelt like lemons or bleach either. There were no lawnmowers or hoses going off, and no cars passing by either. Where was he then?

He remembered the beating he had received from his uncle, which had been rather worse than usual. When the large man had left the room for a moment, he had quickly penned (quilled?) a letter to Voldemort and sent if off with his beloved Hedwig. Uncle Vernon had then returned and dragged him downstairs before forcing him back into the cupboard under the stairs, where he had been sleeping since returning for the summer break that year. And then he had taken Sirius' knife and slit his wrists.

So then why was he still alive?

Slowly, Harry opened his eyes, finding himself staring up at a white ceiling. Well that wasn't very helpful. Glancing left and right, he frowned, taking in the large, neutrally decorated room. And then he remembered the dream.

Voldemort had been in it with him, and had told him that he had...saved him, and brought him to his manor. He said something about a healing sleep too, right? But if he was awake, then didn't that mean he was fine now?

Trying to sit up, he winced at the sharp pain in his head, and quickly lowered himself back down with a muttered curse. "Slow," he told himself, "slow." Bracing a hand on the bed, he gripped his head with the other one and, very carefully, sat up, gritting his teeth.

Still holding his head, he looked around, moving cautiously. There was a door on the right wall, next to which was a wardrobe. A bathroom then? There was a large window on the left wall, meaning the door on the back wall was probably the one that led out of the room.

Spotting the bedside table next to him, he found his glasses. And then he froze. His glasses were sitting on the table, but he could see clearly? Had Voldemort fixed his vision too? Why would he do that? Frowning, he left the frames where they were, and opened the drawer, trying to find his wand. As expected, it wasn't there. Then again, it wasn't like he had had it on him in the cupboard, so it may have still been with his other stuff. Probably in his trunk, unless someone had removed it.

Hearing a soft hiss, his head snapped over (which had him releasing a groan of pain), only to see a rather large snake slithering away through the door that most certainly hadn't been open a moment ago. Had Nagini-and he knew it was her-opened it or something? Wait, how would she have even done that?

For a moment, Harry debated on whether or not it would be a good idea to try standing up, but when his head gave another painful throb, he dismissed the thought immediately. The last thing he needed was to fall over, especially if Nagini had gone to get Voldemort, which, he was sure, she was currently doing.

Instead, he looked down at himself, only to see he was sill unclothed. Well then. He pulled the bed sheet higher, making sure it covered everything below his waist. The last thing he wanted was to flash Voldemort. Then again, if he had been the one to heal him, then he had probably already seen him naked anyway, right? Whatever. He had been unconscious, so it didn't count, Harry decided, tugging at the sheet again.

And he was just in time too, for not even five seconds later, the door opened and the Dark Lord Voldemort himself walked through, his serpent slithering along beneath him, hissing incoherently.

"Potter."

"Voldemort."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it for now. Nothing happened. Why do I keep doing this? I'm still trying to figure Harry's personality out, along with how these two should interact now that they're both conscious. Any suggestions? Remember, chapter lengths will vary. Comments? Kudos?


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Hedwig arrives at the Dark Lord's manor with a letter from her young master, Voldemort doesn't quite know what to do. The owl seems to be pleading for help, and Voldemort makes the sudden decision to get Harry and bring him to the manor. But when he reaches Privet Drive, he finds that things with his enemy aren't what they seem to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I was going to say something here, but I can't remember what. Anyway, some people mentioned being unsure as to whether Harry was still a Parselmouth, since Nagini's hissing in the previous chapter was incoherent. That was simply because he couldn't hear her properly. He can still speak Parseltongue, don't worry. Thank you to all readers so far, and an extra to those who commented!

"Potter," greeted the Dark Lord calmly.

"Voldemort," Harry returned, tone neutral. It was strange to be looking into those crimson slits when they weren't filled with fury, the teen decided quickly.

"How are you feeling?"

"Fine. A bit sore." The two mortal enemies merely regarded one another in silence for a moment, before the younger of the two spoke again. "The Dursleys?"

"Your relativesss? In the dungeon."

Harry nodded curtly. "Is someone supposed to check me over?"

"Yesss."

Harry raised a brow, but nodded. "Are they already here?"

"Yesss." Crimson eyes locked on the teen, Voldemort touched his Dark Mark and, moments later, Snape and Mrs Malfoy walked into the room, both pausing when they saw he was awake.

The woman approached him first, an air of professionalism about her. "Any pain?" she asked.

"Mainly my head."

"Throbbing, stabbing, stinging?"

"Stabbing and throbbing," he replied.

The woman kept her tone controlled and soft when she spoke, telling him everything she was going to do, before doing it, as if worried about frightening him. Or perhaps she was afraid of angering the Dark Lord. There really was no telling.

Snape on the other hand, didn't say a word, and handed potion after potion in silence, the woman the one explaining what they were, and what they would do. Harry remained silent unless asked a question, and did as told, gaze occasionally flickering over to the Dark Lord, who was standing a few feet away, watching the proceedings intently, but without comment.

Mrs Malfoy and Snape both finished what they were doing, bowed to their lord, and left the room, the man glancing back at the teen as he did so, a strange expression in his eyes that wasn't discernible.

Once Harry and Voldemort were alone again, they merely turned to stare at one another again silently, appraising each other. They continued doing this, until Nagini slithered up onto the bed.

She rose up until she was eye to eye with him. **"You need to feed him, Master. The hatchling needs to be fattened up a little. He is not healthy."**

Voldemort didn't get the chance to answer, because Harry did so first. **"Thank you, Nagini, but I'm not hungry."**

Crimson slits widened the moment those words were spoken, and the Dark Lord took a step forward, eyes locked on the dark haired teen. **"You are a Parselmouth, Potter?"**

Harry raised a brow. **"Clearly. Didn't you know?"**

**"No, I did not. Have you always been one?"**

**"As far as I remember."**

**"I see..."** And the contemplating expression that appeared on that snake-face was slightly worrying.

They fell into silence once more, this one only slightly awkward.

**"You are not hungry?"**

Harry hesitated, then decided it didn't matter. Since Voldemort had been the one to find him and have him healed, he probably already knew anyway. **"I'm so hungry that I'm not hungry any more,"** he replied with half a shrug. "Any chance I can grab a bath or a shower or something?" he asked, in English* this time.

The snake-like man inclined his head and indicated the other door in the room. "Through there."

The teen nodded. "Thanks." But when the Dark Lord made no move to leave, he mentally shrugged, gently removed Nagini from his lap, and slid out of the bed, no longer caring about his nude state. He had already seen everything, and the two were male anyway. Sure he'd probably be more modest if he was a girl, but as he clearly wasn't, what was the point?

Walking past Voldemort, he stepped into the surprisingly large bathroom. Shutting the door behind him, he peered around curiously, before shrugging and starting the bath. Still feeling a little sore, he soaked in the hot water for a while, thinking.

He wasn't quite sure how to feel about everything that had happened. Yes, he had been the one to send Voldemort that letter, cluing him in to what was going on, but he certainly hadn't asked to be 'rescued' or helped. In fact, the only reason he had written the thing in the first place was because he had been planning on being dead by the time the Dark Lord bothered showing up at Number Four.

And now that he was here in Voldemort's home?-headquarters?-lair?-he wasn't sure how to feel. Actually being alive may have added to that too, he admitted to himself.

Sighing softly, he raised a wet hand to rub the bridge of his nose, absently having made the motion to move his glasses first, even though he wasn't wearing them.

That was another thing, he realized. The Dark Lord himself had saved him, locked up his relatives, kept them all alive, and had him healed. Why? What was the point? Weren't they enemies? He had stated in his letter that while he was no longer on the Light's side, he wasn't planning on being on the Dark's either. Being alive wasn't about to change that. If he was stuck living, then he wanted no part in this war.

But...considering who he was, that probably wasn't actually an option, was it? He wasn't sure if Dumbledore knew what had happened yet, that he was no longer in Privet Drive, but if he learned Harry was still alive, surely he was going to try to drag him back to the 'good' side, right?

What about Voldemort then? Was he going to try to entice him into joining him instead? Or was he simply biding his time until he killed him? It was hard to tell. Why heal him for that? Why didn't he simply finish him off when he arrived at Number Four? The teen had been standing at Death's doorstep anyway.

Harry sighed again, dragging his fingers through his hair, wishing Sirius were here to talk too. He always helped him sort things out. Then again, maybe that wouldn't be the best idea. Certain things had to be kept secret, after all.

He frowned, staring unseeingly into the water. Perhaps he could use what had happened as an advantage. Sure all Voldemort had done in Privet Drive was grab him and the Dursleys, the Order would likely come to that very same conclusion-that they had all been kidnapped. Maybe they would even think them all dead.

They would struggle to learn of the truth, and possibly try to locate him, without success, he was sure. Though, that would definitely depend on whether Snape would tell them anything, being a spy and all. Still, it was only mid-July, which left him with nearly the entire summer break.

If Voldemort didn't kill him in that time, then perhaps they could come to an agreement of some sort, and he would be able to put certain plans helped hatched out by select trusted people, into motion.

Then he could return to Hogwarts in September, and simply pretend he had spent the break with a Muggle friend. After all, his godfather had just died, and he had learned of a horrible prophecy that pitted him against the Dark Lord, and, on top of all that, he was a _teenager_. And what did teens tend to do when upset in any way? Rebel, of course.

Meaning leaving Privet Drive to stay with a 'friend', while disappointing, surely wouldn't be shocking. Or at least, it shouldn't be. Then again, most of these rules didn't seem to apply to him for some stupid reason, so perhaps it wouldn't matter. But even then, what was the worst Dumbledore could do? Give him detention? Speak to him in that irritating voice that was supposed to make him feel like a toddler caught with his hand in a cookie jar? Give him that look meaning the same thing? None of that would change anything.

Either way, Harry decided, he needed to speak to Voldemort. Nodding to himself, he reached for the soap and began to clean himself off...

When he stepped out of the bathroom and into the bedroom, he found that Voldemort was gone. Not at all surprised, moved to his trunk that sat on the floor next to the wooden wardrobe, and pulled out his newest set of Muggle clothes, bought just a few weeks ago in secret.

He yanked on a pair of boxers (that, thank Merlin, belonged to him and not his cousin) and dark jeans, then pulled on an equally dark tee, socks, and then his trainers. Though nothing in his trunk appeared disturbed, he wasn't able to find his wand, and searched the room, coming up empty. He hadn't expected otherwise.

It wasn't until he moved to the bed that he realized he wasn't as alone as he had thought he was. Nagini lay among the sheets. She was still, sleeping maybe? It was hard to tell, since snakes couldn't close their eyes or anything.

Sure she wasn't planning on hurting him, he climbed onto the bed himself, and ran a hand down her surprisingly smooth scales. He'd always had a fascination for snakes, though he'd never been able to touch one before, for obvious reasons.

The serpent released a soft hiss, before slithering around to face him, and raising herself up to look at him. Tongue coming out, she hissed again. **"You are clean now, hatchling."**

Unable to help himself, Harry smiled slightly. **"I took a bath."**

**"Good. You still need to eat."**

**"I'm not hungry."**

Nagini made a sound then, a strange hiss that, oddly enough, sounded disapproving. **"That's not good, little hatchling. You need food to grow big and strong like my master."**

Amused at how the snake sounded rather like how he assumed a mother would, he laughed lightly. **"I don't think I'd ever managed to become like him, but I understand. Maybe I'll ask for an apple or something."** She gave what must have been a shrug, and a sigh, though neither of those should have been possible, increasing his amusement, while he wondered why he liked her so much. **"Nagini, do you think you could get Voldemort for me? I'd like to speak to him."**

The snake peered at him almost curiously, before saying, **"Master is conducting a meeting, but I will tell him."**

**"Thank you."** He watched her lower herself off the bed, slither to the door, which opened immediately, before shutting the moment she was outside. Out of curiosity, Harry slid off the bed and padded to the door himself. It didn't open automatically. So he reached and tried the handle, finding the door was locked. It must have been spelled to open for the serpent only then.

Returning to the bed, Harry sat down to wait...

* * *

Voldemort, seated on his throne, was in the middle of finishing the meeting that had been interrupted the other day, when Potter's owl had decided to invade.

He was just about to dismiss everyone, when he noticed Nagini slither into the room. What was she doing? He had instructed her to remain with the boy. **"Nagini, has something happened?"** he asked, ignoring the way many of the Death Eaters had stiffened at the sound of Parseltongue.

**"The hatchling wishes to speak to you. And he wants an apple because I am making him eat."**

Slightly amused with the latter statement, because she often did the same to him, he was more curious about the former, and raised a non-existant brow. **"Is that so? Did he say what about?"  
**  
**"No. But he is calm and clean now."**

**"I see."** He turned back to the Death Eaters, all of whom were standing around somewhat awkwardly. "Disssmisssed."

They all but fled.

"Tippy."

A House-Elf with large, floppy ears, popped into the room silently. He bowed, then spoke. "Yes Master?"

"I require an apple."

Nodding, the smaller being popped away, before reappearing, a shiny red apple in hand. "A fresh apple for yous, Master."

Taking the fruit, Voldemort nodded, watched the Elf vanish, before getting to his feet. **"Come, Nagini. Let us see what the boy wishes to discuss."** And with his familiar slithering along at his heels, the two made their way through the large manor...

*I was so about to write Westron. I'm been reading too much Tolkien.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it for now. I have an idea for the next chapter, but since I'm me, I'm not going to promise anything. I'm open to ideas and suggestions. Comments? Kudos?


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Hedwig arrives at the Dark Lord's manor with a letter from her young master, Voldemort doesn't quite know what to do. The owl seems to be pleading for help, and Voldemort makes the sudden decision to get Harry and bring him to the manor. But when he reaches Privet Drive, he finds that things with his enemy aren't what they seem to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't have much to say, but I'd like to point something out. I previously had Voldemort extend all the "s"s when he spoke, but with this chapter being so dialogue heavy, it got rather annoying. I had them speaking in Parseltongue, which is bolded, but that got irritating on the eyes, so instead, Voldemort no longer has a forked tongue. Thank you to all readers so far!

Harry was still seated on the bed when Voldemort and Nagini came back into the room. Easily catching the apple tossed at him, he inclined his head politely and, uncaring about whether or not it was poisoned, bit into it.

"You wished to speak to me?" the Dark Lord questioned after a pause.

Swallowing the bite of chewed apple, Harry nodded. "I'm not going to be so naive as to call for a truce, but I will ask this. What would you do if I decided to refuse to help the Light?"

Voldemort raised an intrigued non-existent brow. "That would depend. Are you neutral, or Dark?"

The teen thought for a moment, before answering. "Neutral leaning Dark," he replied. "Those choosing the same path as I, have reached an agreement."

"And that agreement is?"

"We remain neutral in this war, until it is proven that one side will benefit us more. And while I know you want to kill Dumbledore, I have a different goal in mind."

"Oh?"

"I want to see him discredited before his death. After all, what good will it be if all his errors, misjudgements, and crimes are revealed _after_ his death?"

"Discredited?" the Dark Lord repeated, though it didn't actually sound like a question.

"I want him to pay before he is killed. Death isn't revenge enough. Not for me. Not for many others."

"I see. How very Slytherin of you."

Harry smirked. "Well, the Sorting Hat did want to put me there first. I only ended up in Gryffindor because I didn't want to be in the same House as Malfoy. He's a childish prick."

The Dark Lord released an eerie sounding chuckle. "Is that so?" This was good though, he realized, because it played right into his own plans. He had been thinking of turning the teen Dark anyway, and here is was, already leaning towards it himself. He peered down at the boy, who was showing no signs of distress or fear. _What would it take_ , he wondered, _to get Harry Potter on my side?_ "Come," he spoke finally, "let us take this discussion somewhere else." He moved to the door.

Harry stared at him for a moment, then slid out of the bed and followed after him, the two leaving the room, and making their way down the hall, through the manor. He found it rather strange that he was walking right beside the Dark Lord, in his Headquarters no less, but said nothing about it.

Voldemort led the teen into his study, and took a seat behind his mahogany desk, gesturing for him to sit down across him. Harry did so, lowering himself down in one of the high backed, dark leather chairs. Once they had both settled, the older man spoke.

"Tell me, Potter. What would you and your...companions require to join my side?"

Not surprised or bothered by the abruptness, Harry replied. "I will not become another one of your minions," he stated firmly. "If that is what you're hoping to get out of this, then this discussion ends here and you might as well just kill me. It won't happen."

Caught off guard by the firm words, Voldemort blinked, then inclined his head. "You wish to be my equal?"

"As equal as I can get, yes. I'm not saying you have to let me boss your Death Eaters around, but they won't be telling me what to do, unless absolutely necessary. I acknowledge that they are older and more experience than me, and there will be times when that will have to be done. The same will go for my companions. I doubt they will be around you or the Death Eaters very much, so they will primarily listen to me, again, unless it becomes necessary to do otherwise."

"Very well. You will have to inform me of who your companion are," he pointed out.

Harry nodded. "If we can come to an agreement, I will."

Again, the Dark Lord inclined his head. "Very well. What else?"

"We will not be marked. We have no desire to be branded, and in any case, it would be too suspicious. My companions and I have other methods of communication, and we will include you and your _most_ trusted Death Eaters in this as well, but no one else."

Voldemort didn't argue with that, because he actually agreed. He could gain himself even more spies, this way, couldn't he? And even if they did only report to Potter, he and the teen would be exchanging information.

"We will not torture or kill, again, unless necessary, and if you plan to punish us, then it can't be with the Cruciatus, or anything similar. As I said, they won't be around often, but you can't take anger out on me."

The Dark Lord wasn't very pleased with that, but figured he could just torture Wormtail a little more instead. That was always fun. "Anything else?"

"Other than Dumbledore can't die until he's discredited, no."

"Ah, this discrediting. How do you plan on doing this?"

Here, Harry hesitated, not wanting to give too much away too soon. "Let's just say the old man has committed many crimes, and I want them revealed."

"I see. What do you plan for Hogwarts then, if the Headmaster is arrested then killed?"

"That would depend."

"On?"

"Your own goals. I can't reveal everything I have in mind until we have an agreement, but I do need to know what your goals are, and whether they tie in with mine."

Normally, Voldemort wouldn't have answered that. But he still believed having Harry Potter on his side would be very beneficial. Especially if the old fool could be discredited in front of the world first. An amusing prospect, really. "I wish for change, Potter. Change to benefit all of Mother Magic's children, whether they be a witch or wizard of any of the three bloods, or a magical creature."

Harry nodded, but said nothing, listening intently.

"The Hogwarts curriculum must be changed to teach children of all magicks, instead of merely Light or those that are neutral Light. Old lessons removed must be restored, old books removed, the same. The emphasis on prejudice must be negated, to give all children an equal chance to learn. This prejudice and discrimination needs to be erased not just from the school but Wizarding Britain in general."

Again, Harry nodded. "I was thinking about an orphanage for magical children, you know."

"An orphanage?" That hit a little close to home.

"Yes. Did you know we don't have even a single one? Yet the United States, Canada, China, Japan, Russia, India, Australia, and Africa all do? What happens to Muggleborn children who have no family to take them in? Some Muggles might be pleased to have a wizard or witch in their family, but not all are. What about Half-Blood children who only have Muggle relatives? Pureblood children generally have plenty of family to care for them, but the same doesn't stand for the others."

"Speaking from experience, Potter?" There was no humour in the Dark Lord's tone.

Still, Harry simply shrugged **.** "I was stuck with abusive relatives all these years, who were trying to 'beat' the magic out of me. There were plenty of people here who could have taken care of me. Still, a Muggleborn friend of mine faces no such issue. Her parents adore her, and are proud of what she is. Not everyone is that lucky."

"I agree." After all, he too had grown and lived in a filthy Muggle orphanage, forced to return to that terror each summer until he reached of age, all taking place during World War II, no less. "I wish to start a new school. One for magical children under the age of eleven, primarily for Muggleborns and Half-bloods living in the Muggle world. They understand very little when they come to our world in their first year, and are treated like Purebloods, expected to know everything the Pureblood children do."

The teen inclined his head at those words. "I definitely agree with that. I had issues with that myself, and having to write with a quill after having spent a decade writing with pens and pencils was only the tip of the iceberg."

"Do my goals coincide with your own, Potter?"

"If everything you've told me is true, then yes, they do. One thing though."

"Yes?"

"You said you want equality for magical creatures as well, right?"

"I did."

"How would you do that? People are terrified of magical creatures."

"This is why I attempt to recruit them to my side," Voldemort explained. "Dumbledore makes promises, promises that are nothing but colourful lies, and helps pass laws that only hinder them more, though it appears otherwise."

"I have a werewolf friend," said Harry frowning. "He was firmly on Dumbledore's side, until he started learning the truth. He hated what he is, you see, but now he's accepted it, and sees where the old man went wrong. He can't hold a job for very long, because, somehow, his employers always find out what he is. And he's a good, smart, hardworking, kind man."

The Dark Lord nodded. "This is common for many werewolves, unfortunately. It has become near impossible for them to find work, and werewolf children are forbidden from Hogwarts entirely. The Defence professor from your third year, Lupin, was it? He was the only werewolf to attend and teach at the castle for many centuries."

Harry's frowned deepened. "I remember him telling me that was only because Dumbledore insisted he be allowed to attend, as long as certain precautions were taken. That's why they planted the Whomping Willow."

Voldemort frowned now too. "I see. That is strange. I know for a fact no werewolf attended after Lupin, and none for a very long time before."

"That's definitely weird," Harry admitted. Had Dumbledore been planning on doing something with Remus? "If I joined you, along with my companions, what would you have us do? What would be your terms?"

"That would depend on who is on your side, and what they have to offer. You will have to answer to me, however. I will not order you, but it will need to be done."

"I certainly hope that will go both ways, you know. I have no desire to be left in the dark about your plans, while you know everything about my own."

The man smirked, but didn't deny anything. "In any case, now that I have told you my initial desires, explain to me how you wish to discredit the old man."

Since they still hadn't officially come to an agreement, Harry knew not to say too much. "Why, take him to court, of course."

Voldemort blinked. "Court?" he repeated slowly.

"Yes. I plan on doing this the old fashioned way, and beating the old fool at his own game."

The Dark Lord understood immediately. "Politics." Dumbledore had always been fond of them, he knew.

"Exactly."

While that didn't exactly tell him very much, Voldemort could tell Potter was confident in his plans. Since he had most of the influential Purebloods on his side, it only made sense the teen would seek him out. He needed more backing, if he wished to take this all the way to court. And while all the Dark Lord wanted was to see Albus Dumbledore dead, watching him be humiliated in front of the world would the icing on the cake, so to speak. Death, after all, could come any time.

So he focused on the raven haired boy sitting before him, and inclined his head. "I accept your terms, Harry Potter." He held out a large, pale, long fingered hand.

Harry peered at the man closely, judging the truth, and then nodded. "And I accept yours, Lord Voldemort." He extended his own, smaller, tanned hand.

And as dusk settled outside Riddle Manor, the Dark Lord and the Boy-Who-Lived shook hands, solidifying their new arrangement...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now, if anyone reading this knows how the whole political thing works, please let me know, because it soooo isn't my strong point. I don't remember anything about government class from grade five, and utterly failed civics in grade ten. I could really use help/suggestions. Please? Comments? Kudos?


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Hedwig arrives at the Dark Lord's manor with a letter from her young master, Voldemort doesn't quite know what to do. The owl seems to be pleading for help, and Voldemort makes the sudden decision to get Harry and bring him to the manor. But when he reaches Privet Drive, he finds that things with his enemy aren't what they seem to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo? So sorry about the wait! I promise I didn't forget about this! Even though I wrote all except the first two paragraphs today...

A week had passed, and Harry was finally feeling healthy again. He and Voldemort had decided to wait a few days for him to fully heal up, and make arrangements with their people for the new shift in dynamics. So far, things were going well, and now the teen was well enough to agree to the arrangement via a magical contract, which would have been a terrible idea while he'd been unwell, because it was a very magically draining action.

So the Dark Lord and Boy-Who-Lived once more met in the former's study, going over terms as the man pulled out the contract he had had written a few days earlier. He had attempted to add in a few loopholes, but Harry, who had had the chance to examine it beforehand, had sent it off to a friend, who had pointed those holes out, and now the two were negotiating again.

Luckily for Harry, Voldemort seemed quite intrigued by his intentions on discrediting and humiliating Dumbledore, and for now, seemed willing to help him out, and let the teen help him in return.

And so, because of that, the contract was finally agreed upon and signed, officially sealing the deal between them.

* * *

Harry had a few discussions with his trusted companions, and then, on the first of August, once more met with the Dark Lord in his study.

"You now have free reign over my manor," Voldemort told him. "I have informed my Death Eaters of your current neutrality in the war, and they now know not to harm you, or they themselves will suffer the consequences."

Harry nodded. "Thanks for that." He set the roll of parchment that had been resting on his lap onto the desk between them. "This is a list of the...members on my own side. As I said before, we will remain neutral for the time being. If our plans continue to coincide, then I have no doubt we will begin to call ourselves Dark. Until we are able to take Dumbledore to court, we would rather our positions remain...quiet, for a lack of better words."

Voldemort pulled the parchment towards him, unrolled it, and scanned through it, non existent brow raising as he saw the names. Some of them were quite surprising, some not so much, and there were a few that most certainly caught him off guard. He looked back up at the teen who was watching him carefully. "I thought he was dead."

Harry didn't have to ask for him to elaborate-there was only one name on the list that it could be. "We faked it."

"Why?"

"According to some, he was beginning to have a bit _too_ much influence on me-influence Dumbledore didn't exactly agree with. If we hadn't faked his death, it was likely guaranteed that he would have ended up dying in an ' _accident_ ' of some kind sooner rather than later. We figured the best thing to do was to get ahead of the game and take care of it ourselves."

"I see..." The Dark Lord ran a finger over his chin, thinking. "You do have some people of influence on your side, but not nearly enough, especially with some of their ages and lack of experience." He paused, then said, "Do you know what titles you inherit besides Potter?"

Harry shook his head. "I had plans to go to Gringotts this summer, but the Order thought it would be a good idea to threaten my uncle, which resulted in you finding me the way you did."

"...Why did they believe their threats would aid you?"

"Because Dumbledore's idiotic and doesn't think blood would willingly harm blood?" the teen replied with a shrug.

"Ah." Voldemort didn't question that. He had forgotten it, but he already knew this. After all, that was the very reason why he had never done anything to help Severus when he had been a child, suffering through terrible abuse at the hands of his own father. It was Voldemort who had helped the child when Lucius had brought him to him.

"Still," said Harry, "neglect towards cases of child abuse are just another thing we're planning on having him face in court. My own case is, of course, likely going to be the most influential and concrete, but I know of a few others as well, from current and old students."

The Dark Lord made a mental note to speak to Severus and see what he thought about this. His own childhood had been made infinitely worse because of the Headmaster refusing to believe or help him. If he agreed, then he too could testify, if that was what Potter was going for here.

"Speaking of, what else are you planning on accusing Dumbledore of?"

Harry ran his fingers through his hair, and then crossed his arms over his chest, clearly debating on exactly how much he wanted to reveal right now. "To be honest, a lot of it will depend on what the Goblins discover."

"Goblins?"

"Yeah. I'm planning having them check me for blocks and such. My closest friends have noticed odd things about my magic, and suspect he may have done something. That was another reason why I wanted to go to Gringotts."

"And if they discover nothing? What then?"

Harry leaned back and smirked, looking quite confident. "I have a few other things in mind. Are you sure you want to know and ruin the surprise?"

Voldemort leaned back now too, smirking as well, enjoying this more than he thought he would. "Actually, no. Keep it to yourself for the time being. It will no doubt be more entertaining this way. Now, which of my Death Eaters were you planning on having the aid of?"

"Malfoy, for sure," Harry replied immediately. "I believe he's got the most influence out of them all, and he's the one I'm going to be talking to most. The others aren't quite as important, but since they're all Purebloods, they'll be useful anyway. A lot of them have seats that can be used in votes, and their voices do go heard, more often than not."

The man inclined his head. "Then it seems that our first order of business is getting you to Gringotts."

"That'll be the first step, yes," Harry agreed. "And then, depending on what I learn there, all future steps may have to be changed."

"What do you plan on telling the Order once you return to Hogwarts in September?"

"My initial idea was to just tell them that I left the Dursleys to spend my summer with a Muggle friend-who I'll invent. You realized the Blood Wards were pointless because you now carry my blood in your veins, went to kill me, only to discover I was already gone. Annoyed, you kidnapped the Dursleys instead, perhaps in an effort to draw me out."

Voldemort was unwillingly impressed. Where had this Potter been hiding all this time? "And how will you get around the fact that it has been two weeks since I 'kidnapped' your relatives and you have yet to even attempt to aid them? In fact, if they now know that the house is sitting empty, they would no doubt notice that you did not even return."

Harry inclined his head in understanding, but again, smirked. "It shouldn't be at all surprising that I won't make any effort to help the Dursleys in any way. It was hardly a secret that we despised one another. I told Dumbledore more than once that they were going to end up killing me one day, but he never listened. And I've stated, again more than once, that I couldn't care less about what happened to them, just as they couldn't care less about what happened to me. There is no love lost between us.

"And sure, me remaining with my 'friend' while they've been 'kidnapped' by the Dark Lord might sound cruel, but neither Dumbledore, nor the Order, nor the sheeple populace have ever had to live with them. Once they've been locked in a cupboard for ten years while being starved and nursing broken bones, not to mention essentially being a slave, they can tell me how cruel I am."

Voldemort listened to all this with interest, thinking things through. "If they attempt to investigate into this Muggle friend of yours?"

Harry blinked. Damn. He hadn't thought of that. If they really did look into it, it wasn't going to be all that long before they found out he was lying. He didn't have any Muggle friends, never had, thanks to Dudley, so it wasn't like he could get someone to pretend. He could always say the friend moved abroad at the end of August. Trying to find someone living overseas would be far more difficult, especially if it was a Muggle.

Actually, that would work, wouldn't it? He could spent the next three weeks here, and then, the last week of August, return to Number Four to 'discover' that the Dursleys were gone, and contact the Order while pretending to be surprised or confused. Or he could simply continue to ignore the Dursleys and go straight to the Leaky Cauldron once his 'friend moved', and spend the last week there. He could use that time to do his school shopping as well.

He relayed his thoughts to the Dark Lord.

"I see," he said once the teen had finished, running one of his sharp nails over his lipless mouth. "Whether you discover your relatives are missing or not, both ideas have merit. You could give your 'friend' a rather common name, which would make him more difficult to track down, if they do attempt it. And since few of them know how to interact with Muggles and Muggle technology on even the most basic levels, I doubt they will try too hard if they learn the friend has left the country-especially if they crossed the sea.

"Your age and what you seemingly went through last June gives you ample reason to rebel a little, and while they may become angry, there is hardly anything they can do to stop you. The worst they can do once you return to Hogwarts is revoke your Hogsmeade privileges, and as your godfather is supposedly dead, they may do that regardless."

Harry nodded. "That's what I was thinking."

"We can go as far as to have one of my Death Eaters pose as this friend, in a disguise, naturally. Perhaps get a photograph taken of the two of you together for further proof-perhaps even at the airport. Not even Squibs require travelling by plane, so there will not be any Wizards working there to help them."

"That works. I'll contact my more artistically minded friend and have her come up with a credible disguise."

"Good. When do you wish to begin discussing your court plans with Lucius?"

"Hmm, give me a couple of days. I'd like to speak to my more politically savvy friends, and get their thoughts on it. So three days from now, perhaps?"

Voldemort inclined his head. "I will inform him of what to expect ahead of time."

"Alright. I have a couple of people you can talk to if you're really looking for Magical equality, and a Muggleborn friend of mine is very interested in your idea of starting up a primary school for those brought up in the Muggle world. She has many ideas of her own that I think you should hear."

"Very well. I will meet with them the same day you speak to Lucius."

"I'll let them know then."

While it was true that they were only in the beginning stages of their plans, it couldn't be denied that so far, things appeared to be going quite well both them both. And if they were happy, well that meant a great deal to the Death Eaters and Harry's companions...

* * *

Meanwhile, unbeknownst to the Dark Lord and Boy-Who-Lived, yet another meeting of the Order of the Phoenix was taking place-this one at least the fifth one over the past two weeks.

They had all but taken over Grimmauld Place after Sirius' death, and were seated at the large table in the basement kitchen, trying to figure out what to do now, not that their initial plans were off the table or anything.

Though Mundungus had one again failed in his guard duties at Number Four Privet Drive, Dumbledore had many advanced spells and wards placed on the house, and one of his detectors had gone off, signalling the house had been emptied. That wouldn't have been odd in most cases. However, at the same moment, Mrs Figg had contacted him to inform him that the Dark Mark was floating in the sky above the house.

*Flashback*

Alarmed, he contacted the available Order members immediately, and rushed to Privet Drive, only to discover, well, nothing. The Dark Mark was, as the Squib had stated, up in the sky, and the house, as Dumbledore had already known, empty.

But there were no signs of a struggle. No bloodshed. Nothing dropped or broken even. The television was on, and there were two large and one small bowls of now melted and spoiled ice cream sitting on the coffee table before the telly. It almost appeared as if the house' occupants had simply vanished into the night.

Dumbledore, standing in the middle of the sitting room, pulled out his wand and waved it in a complex pattern, only to discover that not a single spell had been cast in the house. ...Not cast with a wand, at least. Though he was displeased to learn that no dark magic had been used at all, wandless or not. It was clear that either Voldemort or his Death Eaters had been here, but the Dark Mark was the only proof of that.

And while he contemplated on this, Remus made straight for the cupboard under the stairs, flinching at the sight and smell of all the blood on the dirtied floor inside the small space, even though he already knew it was going to be there. The knife Sirius had given to Harry still lay there, and he silently picked it up and slipped it into his pocket before anyone else could find it. Harry was going to want this back.

Remus, Tonks, Kingsley, and Arthur then joined Dumbledore in the sitting room, all of them looking rather grim. There was one question here on everyone's minds, though none of them were particularly willing to ask it. Or at least, it appeared that way.

"Why was no one watching over Harry!?" Remus questioned. "How could you have just let him be kidnapped!?" He himself had been sent on yet another mission in an effort to speak to the various werewolf packs, giving him ample reason to be upset, since he hadn't been there.

"Now, Remus, we don't yet know if Harry has indeed been taken away," Dumbledore replied calmly.

Tonks and Kingsley both exchanged a silent glance, but Arthur agreed with the Headmaster.

"He's a teenage boy," he said as if it explained everything. "It's possible he's simply out-willingly." It made perfect sense to him, especially as he'd raised plenty of sons himself. "Once we find him, we'll have to be sure to explain why him leaving the wards around the house is a bad and very dangerous idea. I'm sure he'll apologize for his behaviour once he comes to understand the reasoning."

"And what about his relatives?" asked Tonks curiously. "Does You-Know-Who have them now?"

"I'll ask Severus," was all Dumbledore said in response.

Remus scowled, but it wasn't for the reason the others thought it was. If the Order was really going to begin looking for Harry now, he was going to have to warn him to create his 'friend' as soon as he could.

*Flashback end*

But despite the days that had passed, and the investigating they had done, none of them had been able to really figure anything out, and this meeting was only further proof of that.

"I have already told you, Albus," said Severus, sounding quite irritated. "The Dark Lord has Potter's relatives locked in his dungeon, but has made no mention of Potter himself. In fact, he is quite angered that the brat was not there, and has others looking for him."

This was a lie, of course. Severus was fully aware of where Harry Potter was. Though the boy did not know it, it was not the Order of the Phoenix that Severus was loyal to. It was not the Dark Lord either. Severus was loyal to Harry Potter, and no other side, thanks to Lily. Whether he was actually going to tell Potter that was another question altogether.

"We'll just have to look harder then!" Tonks exclaimed, her hand clenching into a fist on top of the table. "We can't let the Death Eaters find him first!"

Kingsley sighed. "I have no doubt he's in pain right now," he spoke in his slow, deep voice. "He just lost his godfather." If the teen really did leave of his own accord, this had to have played some part in it, and he couldn't blame the kid for it at all.

"But that's no reason to run off on his own!" Molly cried loudly, her hands on her hips.

Ron scowled slightly. "I don't get why he's so upset anyway," he muttered. "They barely knew each other!"

Hermione bit back a frown and fought to keep silent. Ron didn't at all understand what it was like to grow up without love. He had his mum and dad, and five brothers, and a sister as well. Even if they fought sometimes, they still loved each other. He had only ever known love, and would never ever comprehend what Harry felt for Sirius. Hermione hardly understood it herself, having grown up with two loving parents, but she knew and acknowledged that.

"You are still stationed at Gringotts here in London, William?" spoke Dumbledore suddenly.

Bill nodded. "Yes, sir."

"Keep an eye out for Harry, then. It won't do to have him wandering the bank on his own." There were plenty of things he could not learn of. Not quite yet, at any rate. The later Harry learned of these things, the better.

"Of course, Headmaster," Bill replied smoothly, lying through his teeth.

And as yet another pointless Order meeting came to an end, and its members scattered throughout the house, no one noticed that a certain group of them locked themselves up in a bedroom on the top floor, having a second meeting of their own.

Unlike the Order, they had much to discuss...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments? Kudos?


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